Rich brother rich sister : two different paths to God, money and happiness

146 Pages·015.071 MB·English

by  Kiyosaki, Robert T., 1947-;Kiyosaki, Emi

Rich
ADVANCE
READER'S
COPY
Rich
SISTER
Two
Different Paths
to
GOD,
MONEY
and
HAPPINESS
Robert Kiyosaki
Entrepreneurand
InternationalBestSelling
Authorof
RichDadPoorDad
Emi Kiyosaki
VenerableTenzin Kacho
Ordainedby
HisHolinesstheDalaiLama
Digitized by the Internet Archive
2012
in
http://archive.org/details/richbrotherrichsOOkiyo
RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER
Rich Brother Rich Sister
Two Different Paths to God, Money and Happiness
by
Robert Kiyosaki and Emi Kiyosaki (Venerable Tenzin Kacho)
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RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER
Table of Contents
CHAPTER FROM THE DINING ROOM WINDOW
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CHAPTER 2 A SHELTER FROM THESTORM
CHAPTER 3 A TELLING HISTORY
CHAPTER 4 LIVES IN TRANSITION
CHAPTER 5 THE EARLY PATHS
CHAPTER 6 WHAT DO YOU WANTTO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
CHAPTER 7 LEAPS OF FAITH
CHAPTER 8 WHY WE FOLLOW OUR TEACHERS
CHAPTER 9 ROBERT'S RICH BROTHER PRINCIPLES
CHAPTER 10 TENZIN'S RICH SISTER PRINCIPLES
CHAPTER 1 LIFE AND DEATH
CHAPTER LIVING WITH GRACE, DYING WITH GRACE
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RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER
'The testofa firstrateintelligenceis theabilityto holdtwo opposedideasin
themindatthesame timeandstillretain the abilityto function."
-F. ScottFitzgerald
RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER
Robertasks: Howareyouliving yourlife?
Emireplies: Wedieas welive.
RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER
CHAPTER 1 FROM THE DINING ROOM WINDOW
ROBERT'S STORY:
Just afterdinner, on an evening in the summerof 1962, the Kiyosaki
family—fourchildren, a mom and a dad were doing what families
across America were doing: They were watching TV, probably
"The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet," a family favorite. The place
was Hilo, Hawaii. And in this small town, television was limited to
just one station which meant families watched whateverwas on,
together.
But on this one particularevening, the Kiyosaki familywitnessed
something they hadn't bargained for. Something far beyond
Ozzie and Harriet. That night they experienced was a harsh,
blinding white flash, and it lit up the whole room—just foran
instant.
I'm Robert Kiyosaki, and the story I am about to tell you changed
my life, my sister Emi's life and my whole family's life. It reorganized
ourthinking about God, war, peace and money. It also impacted
ouractions and ourfutures.
"Whatwas that?" one of us asked spontaneously, "Did someone
just take our picture?" The family sat there, stunned, afterall, this
started out to be a night like any other night. "What happened?"
Afterabout a minute, Beth, the youngest of us said, "Oh, my God!
Look out the window!" As each of us moved toward the window,
we uttered exactly the same words, "Oh, my God."
While otherAmericans simply went on watching TV, there we
stood, in front of ourdining room window, watching the sky, as it
turned from a brief angry orange to a swirling deep red and about
RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER
twenty minutes laterto dark purple and finally backto black. We
didn't know it at the time, but what we were witnessing was an
atomic bomb explosion spreading its wrath across the Pacific sky.
The next day the local papersaid the United State's atomic bomb
test on Christmas Island looked like someone had poured blood
across the sky. A local newscasterdescribed the experience much
more graphically, saying it looked like someone had slit the throat
of an animal and let the blood gush out across the sky. At first the
blood was bright red and frothy because it was still alive with
oxygen. As the blood began to die, it began to coagulate,
become thicker, transitioning from dark red to purple. Eventually
dark purple gave way to black. Thank God the twinkling stars
finally pierced the blackness three hours later.
Thank God for sure. In the summerof 1962, was fifteen years old,
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just about to enter high school. Barbara Kiyosaki, or Emi as we
called her, was fourteen; Jon thirteen; and Beth eleven. Being so
close in age, we were well aware of the times we were living in.
We were well aware of the atomic threat and impending wars
with the formerSoviet Union, Communist China or both. America's
atomic bombs and potential atomic warwere far, faraway from
the living rooms of most U.S. citizens. But this one was literally in our
front yard.
The atomic age affected all of us. We were all old enough to
understand the far-reaching implications of the angry sky framed
by our living room window. It contradicted the very foundation of
what we had all learned in Sunday school: "Thou shalt not kill."
But maybe what we were witnessing was "Onward Christian
Soldiers" the title of a well-known protestant hymn we learned in
church. It was a frightening and confusing time to be a child.
EMI'S STORY:
It wasn't just the sight of the blood-red sky or the difficult
contradictions that made it challenging to be a kid in the 60's; it
RICH BROTHER RICH SISTER
was also the ever present emotional dark cloud hanging over us.
The threat of nuclearwarwith the Soviets, the possibility of fighting
enemies with terrifying weapons and the untold consequences of
death and devastation were on the news every night and
happened right before our eyes.
As a child living in Hilo, facing the realities a child should not have
to face, there was no forgetting the nebulous but constant
concern of nuclear holocaust, mass destruction, not caused by
God, but by man killing man. It left as strong an imprint on me, Emi
Kiyosaki, as it did on Robert. The times and places I would least
expect it, the nuclearthreat would become real. Parks were
meant for playing. But in our park, in the middle of town, the city
had constructed a model bomb shelteras if to show everyone
how it's done. You couldn't miss the formidable structure, and of
course, it was open to the public. I remember my brief tourwell.
The tiny, cramped space was damp, cold, and dark. It smelled of
earth, mold and wet concrete. I couldn't imagine staying in it for
more than ten minutes let alone living in it with my family forweeks,
not months.
if
The airraid drills we had in school seemed important then. One
minute we'd be struggling through a math problem and the next,
sirens would sound and all us kids would dutifully duck underour
desks. Todaywe know how pointless the exercises really were; but
then, we were told hiding underour desks and covering ourheads
would save ourlives.
Our parents protected us from the world as much as they could.
They did their best to shield us from the news of escalating global
tensions and potential conflicts. They knew, and we sensed, war
and strife could arise anywhere and put us in harm's way, even in
a remote town on a distant Hawaiian island. There seemed to be
something noble about it all. Truth,justice and the American way,
said the announceron "Superman." It seemed we were in a fight
of good versus evil, and we were the good guys. Were we all
being called to arms even while still in school?
RICH BROTHER RICHSISTER
Dad, Ralph Kiyosaki, answered that call by becoming a leaderin
the local Civil-Defense chapterand Mom, Marjorie Kiyosaki,
already a nurse, joined the American Red Cross. rememberone
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evening we drove to another little town where three families had
pooled theirefforts and built a networkof underground adjoining
rooms and passageways. It was our first "fallout shelter party."
These friends of ours were so proud of their massive space that
could accommodate more than a dozen people.
While others were marveling, was becoming more and more
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concerned. Why weren't we doing this? Doesn't ourfamily need
one of these shelters? In an attack, would we have time to drive
to a shelter? Would others who are already safe and secure let us
in? Then there was the real issue. I still could not imagine cowering
like a trapped animal in a cold, dank bunker, norcould I, even at
this young age, grasp that a cement hive would protect me, given
what saw from ourpicture window. Furthermore, would want to
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live in a world destroyed by atomic weapons?
I felt my prospects forthe future were rather bleak. My mental
image of being the lonely survivors on a wasted earth was only
compounded by my high school English teacher's choice of
literature. Jean-Paul Sartre's play No Exit told of three people who
are trapped in a room with no windows and one locked door. The
people expect theircaptors to torture them, only to find out that
their torturers are each other.
Perhaps was ultra-sensitive at the time. Or maybe ourteacher
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was trying to tell us something through the voice of a great writer.
Regardless, Sartre's, or my teacher's message perhaps, wasn't lost
on me. What never could have seen coming, though, was how
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this piece of literature when combined with the events of 962
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would pull me toward my destiny.